


It's the Little Things

by Loveislove87



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Stupid Boys being Stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:53:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23304202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loveislove87/pseuds/Loveislove87
Summary: Michael has no idea what friendship and kindness look like until he ruins it.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 19
Kudos: 188





	1. Chapter 1

“Here, drink this.”

Michael stared at the cup, squinting in his sad attempt to push through his hangover and see the world through clearer eyes.

“What’s that?”

Kyle raised his eyebrows, annoyance pinching the features of his face. “Poison.”

Michael offered a fake smile and took the cup, grimacing initially at its heat, then enjoying the warmth as it worked its way down his throat and into his gut. 

He sat up, stretching his back and blinking the tired from his eyes when he paused, cup halfway to his lips again.

“How’d you know how I like my coffee?”

Kyle tapped the side of his head, conspiratorial smirk in place. When Michael’s face showed _exactly_ how funny he thought Kyle was, he sighed and turned back to his work.

“How do you think, genius?”

******

Michael had gotten absolutely obliterated.

His head was pounding, the sound of his own breathing causing him to groan in agony. Rolling onto his back, he stared at the ceiling of his air stream, trying to piece together what may have happened the night before.

He was definitely at the Pony. He’d definitely bumped into Long again. Then something else…it was all fuzzy. It must have been bad if Maria hauled his ass out instead of letting him stay the night.

After a bottle of acetone and a few more fruitless tries at the game of memory, Michael practically fell out of his too small bed. He opened the door and squinted at the sun piercing his eyes, sending a dagger of pain through his skull.

Surprisingly, his truck sat outside and he felt a pit of dread thinking he may have driven home while he was black out drunk. But as he moved closer, he saw his jacket folded neatly on the hood, a yellow piece of paper sticking out of the pocket.

_Feel better._

_*****_

The next time Michael woke up from a binge, it was on a hard bench in an all too familiar cell.

“Ah, he lives.”

Deputy Valenti swaggered to the cell door with a sad smile on her face. “You alright, cowboy?”

Michael threw his arm over his eyes, the sun coming in through the small window at the perfect angle to blind him.

“Been better. Been worse.”

He heard her clear her throat, presumably to get his attention. Peeking out from the safety of his own body, he met her gaze, a mix of frustration and pity.

“Guerin, I dunno what’s going on but you’ve gotta get it together.” He scoffed but she wouldn’t let up. “I’m serious. Michael, the men you fought with last night? About five of them, half of them twice your size. You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

His heart pounded as he felt her affection for him. The sudden longing for his own mother, for someone to love him unconditionally and hold him close while he collapsed, was overwhelming. He didn’t trust his own voice so he just nodded, resting his head back on the wood.

After a few minutes of silence, Michael asked, “so how long am I in the tank this time, Valenti?”

She’d moved quietly to her desk at this point, diving into the endless pile of paperwork. “Whenever you’re sober enough to safely get yourself home.”

Groaning, Michael pushed himself up to sit, resting his back against the cool wall. “I don’t owe you anything?”

She shook her head, eyes dancing across her work. “Already taken care of.”

“Who?”

She looked up, pulling her glasses off her face. “An anonymous donor. Are you feeling better yet? I’m tired of you, Guerin.”

******

Somehow he completely zoned out.

He’d been working through some of Liz’s notes, trying to find what they were missing. But he’d been off all day, getting lost in thoughts of his family, daydreams of his home planet, missing Maria, throwing some shit around when he thought of Max. And then there was always…

A knock at the door startled him from his reverie. He lifted the blinds to see who would have the balls to visit without warning but found a kid standing in the sand with a big bag and a hesitant look on his face.

Michael pushed the door open with a gruff, “what?”

The poor kid looked like he might tip over. He cleared his throat and squeaked out, “delivery for Michael Guerin.”

Michael looked around the yard, trying to see if someone was messing with him. “I didn’t order anything, kid.”

“Uh, well, it’s all paid for, sir. You just have to sign here.”

Michael’s eyebrows moved closer together in confusion. “What do you mean _already paid for_?”

“I mean someone already paid for the meal and told me where to deliver it?”

“Who?”

The kid shrugged and again held out the delivery receipt for Michael to sign but he shook his head and mumbled, “nah, I don’t want it. You have it. Since it’s already paid for.”

“Um, are you sure?” The kid lifted the corner of the bag to look in. “It’s a 22 ounce steak with pasta and potatoes. From that fancy place.”

Michael’s hand reached out to steady himself against the door frame. That was the place he’d saved up for weeks to take Maria on a proper date. It’d been an amazing night. One he took twisted pride in making sure _everyone_ knew about.

“Yeah, I’ll take it then.” He signed the paper and took his food. “Thanks.”

The kid nodded and practically ran back to his car.

Michael placed the food on the small kitchen counter and sat down, staring at the plastic containers while the smell of garlic and basil filled the tight space.

With shaking hands, he found his phone and sent a quick text.

_Thanks for the food, babe_

He waited impatiently for the response to come, leg bouncing with anticipation.

_What food?_

He closed his eyes and threw his head back.

******

“You need to leave me alone.”

Alex was sitting in the sun, tan biceps on display, glasses resting on his nose to block out the rays, reading a book. Michael had barely gotten out of his truck before he’d begun his tirade.

“You’re fucking things up for me, Manes. I don’t want anything from you.”

Alex pushed his glasses into his hair and squinted, using his free hand to shield his eyes.

“Okay.”

Michael stood, hands on his hips, chest heaving, itching for a fight. “Okay?”

Alex nodded. He put his sunglasses back in place and opened his book back up. “Okay.”

They were silent as Michael stared in disbelief and Alex did his best to pretend not to notice Michael’s continued presence.

Eventually it became too much.

“What’s your deal, Manes? Trying to get into my head? Mess up my relationship? What?”

Alex sighed before replacing his bookmark and reaching for his crutch. He stood a bit awkwardly and used the spine of the novel to push his glasses back up so Michael was forced to clearly see his eyes.

“What exactly have I done, Guerin? What exactly is it that’s upsetting you so much?”

Michael opened his mouth but Alex beat him to the punch. “I must have gotten confused again. My fault. Do I owe you more apologies? I’m sorry.”

He turned and began walking toward the house before pausing at the doorway. Alex turned and Michael stood, chin lifted in defense although he couldn’t think of one thing to say.

“I assumed a friend would make sure you didn’t drive drunk. Would get you out of jail. Would make sure you ate. What the hell kind of friends do you have that you think that’s me trying to _mess up_ your life?”

Michael’s face dropped, the realization that maybe Alex hadn’t done anything wrong; that Michael had twisted it all until it was a totally unrecognizable version of the truth.

“You already told me to stay away from you, Michael, so I did. You made it clea you don’t love me, don’t want me, and I have done _everything_ I can to try accepting that. You said you wanted to be with Maria, so I smiled and told you I understood. You needed help getting Max back, getting answers to where you come from, you’re people, I’m doing my best. What else do you want? No contact at all? Me completely out of your life? If I moved to New York tomorrow would that be far enough away from you or would I still be pissing you off somehow? Is my continued existence that much of a fucking burden for you, Michael?”

Alex’s voice had gotten loud, his words bouncing off of the courtyard walls. Michael had felt himself shrink, pull back into himself with shame and embarrassment. He survived each day by thinking the universe was out to get him; he was dealt a shit card and he had to handle it by being shit back.

Until Alex’s words smacked him in the face and he saw the pain he’d been causing first hand, it had been an easy lie to believe.

Silently, Alex walked into his house, door slamming loudly behind him. Michael’s heart was racing as his stomach turned. He couldn’t move a muscle, still couldn’t think of one word to say. He was feeling too much, unable to filter through it all to force himself to be coherent.

The sound of a door closing again jolted him back to the moment. Alex came toward him, face full of thunder while his gorgeous brown eyes looked through him, hollow nothingness.

“Here.” Alex took a backpack from his shoulder and handed it over. It was surprisingly heavy. Michael opened the flap and gasped at the shimmering purple of his ship.

He felt his eyes begin to water, not knowing why. He looked to Alex for answers, to help him understand what was happening, to him. To them.

Alex tilted his head toward the bag. “Jim Valenti had it. I found it and wanted to give it to you. But then you talked about getting it all to work and leaving the planet and I thought I’d _literally_ fucking die if you did that so I kept it.” He let out a humorless laugh and stared at the sky. Michael realized he was trying not to cry.

“Didn’t make much difference in the end, though, did it?”

Michael let his tears fall, too overwhelmed to maintain any control.

“I’m sorry I kept it. It was yours. I had no right.”

Michael shook his head. “Why now?”

Alex scanned Michael’s face, hurt bleeding into those chocolate eyes. When he spoke, it was empty and full of defeat.

“So you can finally be done with me, Michael.”

Michael let out a small sob and clutched the bag so tight it was cutting off circulation to his fingers. Alex adjusted his crutch, getting ready to move once again.

They looked at one another, falling into memories of another time, thoughts of all the what-ifs. Michael kept searching for something to say, moving through his own brain like a Rolodex, digging for the right thing, to make sure Alex knew that this was never what he wanted. That while his mouth said _stay away_ , his heart screamed _don’t leave me_.

He watched as Alex’s eyes filled with tears, an expression Michael had managed to put on his face far too many times.

Alex whispered a broken, “bye, Michael,” before going back inside, shutting the door behind him and locking it with a click.

Michael had no idea how long he stood outside of Alex’s house; long enough for the sun to get lower and his shadow to get longer. He forced his feet to move and shuffled to his truck, tossing the backpack on the passenger seat.

As he drove back home, he began devising a plan.

Step 1: Cut down on the fucking drinking.

Step 2: Hug Isobel and apologize.

Step 3: Talk to Maria and apologize.

Step 4: Find out how Alex likes his coffee.


	2. Chapter 2

Alex poked his fingers between the blinds and slowly lifted them, hoping not to draw attention to himself. 

It was 9am on a blazing hot Saturday and he’d been woken by the sound of a weedwacker whirring right outside his window. He didn’t have to look to know exactly who it was, but he was curious as to what the fuck Michael was doing.

He’d be lying if he said the image of Michael, shirtless and sweating, didn’t turn him right the hell on but this was getting out of hand.

After Alex had spilled his guts, throwing his insecurities into the wind before thinking about where they’d land, he couldn’t get up. He lived for helping Michael, for finding ways to give back, to make some kind of difference, however small, in the other man’s life. 

Michael had managed to call him on his bullshit, though. It was Alex’s way of staying involved, of being as close to Michael as he could be without physically being near him.

But he’d pushed too hard and it really was over. 

That first night was awful. He replayed their conversation, or the word vomit he’d spewed, nonstop. He drank, and then drank some more, until he woke up on the couch, stiff and barely able to move with a headache that made blinking agonizing. 

After a puke, a coffee and some eggs, Alex had taken Buffy outside and sat in one of his patio chairs, taking in his house, his car, his stuff. 

It meant little now.

The thought of Michael, of their potential relationship, possible future, had quietly been keeping him going all these years. To have that hope extinguished...he didn’t have the words to describe how empty he’d felt. 

His chest ached as he went inside and opened his laptop, starting his search for the country’s top cities. He knew he’d want to live somewhere busy, populated, but safe. His job could easily be remote once his re-enlistment period was up, plus he had quite a bit of money saved so he could take his time getting readjusted.

New York City and LA definitely had his attention, the music scenes alone would be worth the trip, but the apartments were tiny, and he may end up having to sell a kidney to pay his rent. Miami wasn’t his scene and Seattle looked like the type of place to send his depression spiraling.

He grabbed his third cup of coffee and moved to the living room, getting comfortable on the couch and making room for Buffy to rest her head on his lap. He found another one of those top cities lists and was intrigued by Portland. LGBT friendly, relaxed people, music scene, not so far that he couldn’t visit if he wanted to. 

That afternoon was spent clicking through photos, checking out postings for apartments, falling down a YouTube spiral of some artists who got their start in the city. 

The next day, feeling a bit better with a plan under his belt, he’d ventured outside to Beam Me Up for a cup of coffee and a snack. On his way out, he literally bumped into Maria.

“God, sorry. Did any of that spill?”

Alex just blinked, an uncomfortable wave of jealousy moving over his skin and pinching him where it landed.

He shook his head and said, “no. It’s okay.”

She gave him a smile as they stood awkwardly in the doorway. He wanted to say something, even if it was small or unimportant, just something to break the ice, but his instincts telling him to get home were clouding his thoughts.

“Michael mentioned he saw you the other day.”

Alex’s eyes grew wide. They hadn’t spoken in weeks; nothing more than worthless pleasantries and she knew why; he’d been honest with her. He’d also felt he’d been fair, leaving them both alone to their relationship, not interfering or getting involved.

At least he’d thought that was what he’d been doing.

But now, as he stared at his oldest friend, watching as her face changed to apprehension, maybe realizing that playing the _we can connect over Michael_ card was the wrong move, he felt angry.

“I’m moving.”

Maria stepped back, surprised. “What?”

Alex nodded, looking around the street, hoping he looked as relaxed and casual as he was aiming for. “Yep. When my enlistment period is over.”

Her mouth opened and shut a few times, small sounds trying to become words escaping. Eventually, she was able to croak out a, “where?”

Alex shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. “Portland looked interesting. I’m looking at a few apartments there.”

The silence took over again as the street became a bit busier with the weekend tourists coming out to enjoy the weather and the sights. Maria’s hair bounced, the ends of her head scarf wrapping loosely around her throat. “You’re leaving because of me, right? Because of me and Michael? You can’t just go because – “

“I have no reason to stay, Maria.” Their eyes met and both sets were filled with a sadness neither could describe. Alex’s heart felt too heavy in his chest, memories of late nights and shared shakes and tears and joints and hugs threatening to leak out of his eyes. Instead, he smiled. “My time here’s up. I did my part but it’s time to see something new.”

With that he turned and walked to his car, coffee cup shaking in one hand while his fingers curled painfully around the bag in the other. Fuck he missed Maria. But he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to look at her the way he used to again.

It was that night, his excitement dwindling and replaced by a quiet desperation, when the first text had come through.

_Don’t leave._

Alex stared. Obviously, Maria had told Michael about their chat. Maybe he felt bad, a twinge of guilt. Alex hoped he did, then felt guilty for hoping Michael felt guilty. This was exactly why he had to leave.

He ignored the text and went back to his computer, sipping on a beer and occasionally giving Buffy some nice scratches behind the ears.

His phone pinged again. Alex stared at it, hoping his glare would make it blow up or something. In the end, curiosity got the best of him and he looked at the text.

_Don’t leave me._

Alex’s heart raced as his fingers moved without thinking.

_You wouldn’t come with me anyway._

He turned his phone off and tossed it across the room, not caring when it bounced along the wood floor a few times.

He didn’t sleep well after that. Thoughts of car rides and spaceships and apartments and soft blankets and bright sunshine and honey curls played behind his eyelids every time he tried to rest.

The further away from Michael he was, the better it’d be for everyone.

The next morning his doorbell rang at 8am. Alex had thought it was a part of his dream at first, cuddled up on a firm, warm chest, wiry hairs beneath his fingers while nails scraped his scalp, lulling him back to sleep. When the buzzing continued, he was thrown back into reality with a big, empty bed and a headache to boot.

Grabbing his crutches, he went to the door and threw it open, shocked to find Michael on the other side looking clean shaven with a cup of coffee.

Michael looked…different. Yes, the beard was trimmed, maybe his hair, too? His clothes were definitely clean. But there was an energy, an aura, around him that Alex hadn’t seen in years. One side of Michael’s mouth lifted, an almost bashful smile, and he held out the coffee cup. Even Michael’s fingernails were clean. Alex lost some time staring at those nails and remembering the comfort they’d brought him in his dream just moments before.

Michael cleared his throat, bringing Alex’s attention back to the moment. “Whole milk and one sugar.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

Michael shrugged and pushed the cup gently into Alex’s chest. “Bringing you a coffee. Good morning, by the way.”

Alex would later blame the broken night’s sleep for the dreamy way he’d whispered out, “good morning,” while accepting the cup. He took a sip and was instantly in his glory. His favorite coffee from his favorite café made perfectly delivered by his favorite…

“Well, have a good day, Alex.”

While Alex stood in the doorway, mouth hanging open at a loss for words, Michael sauntered back to his truck and drove away.

It had fucked with Alex for the rest of the day.

After that morning, Michael made appearances most days. A delivery of a burger and fries one afternoon, randomly bent over the hood of Alex’s Jeep for a tune up a few evenings later, dropping off a case of Alex’s favorite beer. Each time Michael came around, the conversation was limited. Michael would smile, explain why he was there and, as soon as he was finished, he’d smile and say goodbye, driving off once again.

Alex hated it. It was so confusing and contradictory, it made him fucking furious.

Alex really loved it.

He was seeing more of Michael than he had in years and Michael was absolutely different but in a way that suited Michael, not as though he’d changed to fit someone else’s wishes. He looked great and seemed healthy. Happy.

Apparently, today was _clean up the yard_ day. With a sigh, Alex turned from his window and looked at Buffy with her head raised and cocked to the side in concern.

“Yes, it’s Michael.” Buffy’s tail wagged furiously. “You little traitor.”

Alex watched him for a few quiet minutes, taking in every detail, from the way his curls looked almost blonde when the sun hit just right, to the pattern of body hair scattered across his torso, to the flex of his legs when he bent and stretched.

He’d realized the other night, as he sipped on one of the beers Michael had bought him, that he’d stopped looking at apartments, collecting more information on Portland. All it took was for Michael to notice him and his universe tilted, and its center of gravity became Michael once again. That was the first night since their fight he’d allowed himself to cry again.

With a sudden surge of resolve, Alex threw open his drawers and grabbed whatever clothes his hands touched. He took the time to get his leg on, wanting to feel stable and steady for whatever came next.

By the time he got outside, Michael was leaning against the bed of the truck looking like a tan god, bottle of water to his lips, head tossed back with his face covered in sunlight.

Taking a deep breath, Alex charged ahead.

“I want a reason.”

Michael startled a bit, lost in his own thoughts, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Alex couldn’t help but stare at the dampness his hand missed.

“What reason?”

“Don’t be coy, Michael. It’s not cute.”

Playfully, Michael pouted while batting his lashes. Alex wanted to laugh and scream and cry and hold Michael, confusion and caution warring within him.

Alex looked at the ground, noting a nasty scuff across the toe of one of his boots. He pushed his foot into the sand and whispered, “why are you doing this to me?”

Michael made a quiet noise that sounded hurt and stood straight, blocking out the sun from Alex’s face. “ _To_ you?”

Alex looked up and fell into hazel eyes. He nodded. “You’re not actually trying to talk to me. But you’re being- being really kind and generous. I don’t understand.” He shook his head this time and took a step back so he could think. “You told me to get out of your life, I say okay, and then you come flying back into mine.”

Michael shook his head and started digging around the bed of his truck, apparently looking for his t-shirt to throw on as well as his trademark hat. Turning back to Alex, he shrugged and pulled out his car keys.

“I have no idea what I’m doing, Alex.” The silence between them felt thick with opportunity; to be honest, straightforward. Just a chance. “But that night I…” Michael scoffed and broke eye contact, looking around at Alex’s house. “You’ve got a loose shingle up there – “

“That night you what, Michael?”

With a sigh, Michael continued, “I knew that might be it. I know I’ve pushed, and you’ve walked and recently I’ve been pushing a lot harder but I just, I dunno, never let myself imagine you not being in my life somehow.”

Alex crinkled his eyebrows, confused yet again. “If you didn’t want me to go then why say all that shit about – “

“I have been drowning for years, Alex. In booze, in sex, in work, in regret. Just fucking drowning. Then you came back, and your dad was the fucking devil and then my mom and Max. I couldn’t separate it all out. Everything felt like it went back to you.”

Alex nodded, feeling the familiar creep of guilt working its way into his gut. “And I said I understood all of that. I gave you as much space as I could.”

“Did you?”

Alex sighed and dug his hands into his pockets, wishing he had something in his hands to keep them better occupied. He could either choke Guerin at the moment or pull him into a suffocating kiss. He couldn’t decide.

“I guess I didn’t.” He blinked as the next thought smacked him across the face. “I’m not as strong as you, Michael. I can’t know you’re nearby and struggling and do nothing.”

Michael shook his head, taking a step closer to Alex.

“That’s why I’m moving. I can’t stop myself from being in your orbit and you made it clear that’s what you wanted. It’ll give me a fresh start, too, you know. No one’ll recognize the Manes name. No one will care. I can just be another face out there, have a little anonymity and figure out what I’m doing.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

Alex groaned. “C’mon, Michael! You just came here not that long ago bitching that I sent you some food! I’d think you’d be thrilled that I’d be gone.”

Michael laughed. Alex watched as his face changed with the humor and his heart broke a little to see how much younger Michael could look when he relaxed. Even if just for a second. “I told you stay away. You didn’t. I told you again stay away and then you did. Then I couldn’t stay away and now you’re gonna leave. Can we just say the fucking things we need to say and stop doing this?”

Alex took the challenge at face value and straightened up, nodding his head. “Fine.”

“Why did you do all those nice things for me even when I told you to stay away?”

“Because I love you.”

The ease with which those words slid from Alex’s mouth surprised both of them. There was something freeing about the honesty, of finally just saying the words out loud to Michael without fear of rejection or consequence.

He took a deep breath. “Because I love you and I was worried about you.”

Michael licked his lips and looked away, nodding in understanding.

“Your turn,” Alex whispered, pulling Michael’s attention back. “Why do you keep showing up here when you told me to stay away?”

“Because I regretted everything I said as soon as I said it.” Alex lifted an eyebrow, not fully understanding. “I thought I needed distance. Not seeing you all the damn time helped me focus on other things. And I did tell you the truth; I didn’t think we were good for each other and I really, _really_ wanted to be good for Maria.”

Alex took a step back, feeling the burn in his throat start at the mention of his friend’s name when Michael’s callused fingers wrapped around his wrist. “The second I realized I probably pushed you completely out of my life, I regretted it. I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want you to stop caring. I want to be better. I just – “

Michael stopped and took a deep breath, clearly overwhelmed as his voice began to crack. Alex slowly shifted his wrist from Michael’s grip and gently held his fingers in his own.

Michael sighed, “can you ask me one more time?”

Alex nodded. “Why do you keep showing up here when you told me to stay away?”

“Because I love you.”

They stood together in the blazing sun, sweating and staring at one another as though the world had fallen away. The moment was broken when Alex’s eyes shifted to Michael’s turquoise belt buckle. “But you love Maria, too.”

Michael nodded and watched helplessly as Alex let go of his hand. “I do. But I love Maria the same way you love Maria.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what that means.”

“She’s my friend, Alex. That night we fought I had an epiphany.”

“An epiphany?”

“Yeah. You probably already know this but I’m an alcoholic.”

Alex’s head whipped up with concern in his eyes. His mouth moved but he couldn’t think of anything to say.

Michael took it as his cue to continue. “I’ve also been a shit brother to Isobel, so I’ve been working on that. But the morning after I left here, I talked to Maria. Told her how I was feeling, she talked about her feelings and, we both just told the truth.”

“Which was?”

A smile tugged on Michael’s lips. “That we both love you.”

Alex cleared his throat, doing his best not to start crying. “I’d like to get back to the alcoholic piece of this, and I’m glad you’ve stepped up to support Isobel but, uh, are you and Maria still together?”

Michael shook his head. “Not for about, what? Two weeks now?”

Alex nodded. “Okay.”

“Go out with me.”

Alex waited a beat, making sure he’d heard clearly before repeating, “okay.”

“The Crashdown? Lunch tomorrow? Around 12?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah. I’ll meet you there.”

Michael smiled and closed his truck. Slowly, he took off his hat and leaned in, kissing Alex on the cheek. They were both just piles of sweat and beet red, but Alex thought it might be one of the most romantic moments of his life.

“I wanna do this right, Alex. From the beginning.”

Alex smiled. “Me, too. I’ll see you tomorrow. For our first date.”

Michael laughed, his youth bursting through every pore. “For our first date.”


End file.
